


The Man and the Monster

by genevievedarcygranger



Series: Negan/Rick fics [3]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Rick Grimes, Bottom Rick Grimes, Dom Negan (Walking Dead), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pansexual Negan (Walking Dead), Romance, Sharing a Bed, Smut, Sub Rick Grimes, Top Negan (Walking Dead), Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-13 20:57:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13578798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genevievedarcygranger/pseuds/genevievedarcygranger
Summary: Cupid and Psyche - she marries him for the sake of her family, not knowing who she married, believing him to be a monster. She falls in love anyway. Rick Grimes could've never related more to any other story.





	The Man and the Monster

Rick Grimes took a deep breath and let it out slowly. There was no delaying this any further. He had had his shower and was now dressed in a pair of soft, grey sweatpants and a white shirt; these will do for pajamas. The power had been shut, leaving the room in total darkness. Lights out. It was time to go to bed.

When he had made the decision to help the Hilltop by attacking that outpost, he didn’t think that the consequence would be marriage the leader of the Saviors. Maggie fell sick, and out of concern for her and her unborn child, they drove through the night to go the Hilltop’s Dr. Carson. Unfortunately, they ran into a Savior’s roadblock along the way. A tall man with a mustache told them that they would die if they didn’t give in, and since Maggie was getting worse – pale, clammy, looking too much like Lori had – Rick gave in. “Please, I’ll do anything for my family, but she’s sick… please, help us. Please.”

The man nodded, looking pleased with his hands balled into fists on his hips. “I’m Negan. Hello.”

A little desperate, his heart beating as fast as Maggie’s precious time running out, Rick looked around at the Saviors, feeling that out of everything that has happened to him this couldn’t be real. “Rick Grimes. Negan, you lead the Saviors, you know –”

He was cut off when the man held up his hand and interrupted him. “No, no. Rick, all of us – the Saviors – we’re all Negan. My name is Simon, but for now, I’m your Negan.” Blinking, Rick didn’t bother to comprehend. Before he could beg any further, Simon continued blithely, “I heard that girl isn’t looking too good. We’ll let you pass, go to the Hilltop, get your doctor. But you,” he pointed at Rick, “have to come with us. Consider it collateral damage.” Addressing the others, Simon said, “We may bring him back in a week. We may not. But we will be at Alexandria’s gate in a week. Be ready to greet us with open arms.”

And before Rick knew it, he was riding in the back of a truck, wedged between two men with a bag over his head. All he could hope is that this wasn’t a trap, that Maggie would make it the doctor and his family would be okay. It felt like forever when he was dragged out of the truck. They snatched the hood off of his head, and Rick was at a factory surrounded by a sea of the undead around the perimeter. It was the perfect fortress, and part of Rick smiled. It was beautiful for protection.

Then Rick was made to wait while Simon talked to people. Rick couldn’t be sure which one was Negan. There was a short, brown-skinned girl. There was a thin man with a scar on his face and stringy, blond hair. There was a fat guy eating a sandwich. There was a blonde girl with a tattoo on her neck. There was a bald guy, a black guy, a muscled woman, a guy with curly brown hair, a guy with long auburn hair and a mean look on his face. Any of them could be Negan – and since they were all Saviors, they all were Negan.

While he was waiting, a tall man in a black leather jacket sidled up to his side. “Hello Blue Eyes,” the man boomed, “who are you?”

“Rick Grimes.”

The man clicked his tongue at Rick, and Rick could help but notice all the silver threaded in the man’s beard and how dark his hazel eyes were as he leaned into Rick’s personal space. “Don’t let the boss man hear you say that. Since you’re here, you’re gonna be Negan now, too.”

Glancing back at Simon who was talking to another man now, Rick turned back to the man beside him. “Which one is Negan?”

The man chuckled and leaned back on his heels, hands behind his back. “We’re all Negan.”

Ducking his head to hide his frustration, Rick quickly looked back up the man. “Even you?”

“Fuck yes,” said the man, and he stuck his tongue out at Rick from between his teeth, looking all the while like an impish snake. “You know, if you don’t want to be Negan – if you still want to be King Shit Rick Grimes – there is a compromise for you, Blue Eyes.”

Rick leapt at the opportunity. “What do I have to do?”

“You can be Negan’s instead of Negan.” Rick furrowed his brow, confused, and the man clarified, “Negan is always on the lookout for pretty wives. He hasn’t had a husband yet, but he’s not opposed to one.”

Fear dripped down Rick’s spine at the thought of what comes as a husbandly duty. “And if I choose to be Negan instead?”

“Welp,” the man loosened his hands from behind his back, and now Rick saw that he was holding a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire. Rick took two defensive steps back, but the man didn’t threaten him with it, just propped it up on his shoulder casually. “That means you have to fucking kill for Negan. Put your fucking life on the line for Negan. Be willing to fucking take from your family to fucking provide for Negan. You might even have to kill your own fucking family for Negan. If you don’t, you fucking die. These are the goddamned rules, Blue Eyes.”

Maybe Rick was being selfish. But he was so tired. He would die for his family, but he’d rather live for his family instead. There was still Judith, Carl, Maggie’s baby… Could he live with himself if he had to kill Abraham or Eugene or Glenn or Daryl for any of them to live for just a day longer? Twisting away from the man, Rick muttered to himself. “I can’t do it.”

“Looks like your stuck between a fucking rock and a hard place,” the man commented, clearly amused at Rick’s dilemma. “I’ve heard that Negan can be very fucking hard in general, too.”

Rick snapped his head toward the man again, his blue eyes wide and glassy. “I,” he choked and licked his lips, “I don’t know if I can do that either.”

The man tilted his head at Rick. “Blue Eyes, one of our fucking rules here is that we don’t fucking rape. Only fucking animals do that. Worse than fucking animals. Fucking monsters. We’re not fucking monsters here.”

Tilting his head down, Rick looked at his shoes, swallowing the bile in his throat. “I can’t be Negan. I can’t do that to my family.” He shook his head, and then sighed, “But I’ll be Negan’s for my family.”

Smiling like a shark that smelled blood in the water, the man straightened up, wiggling from side to side excitedly. “Excellent choice, Blue Eyes. I knew you were a fucking smart one. Wouldn’t have given you the fucking choice otherwise.”

So here Rick was, afraid to go to bed. He felt like he was seven-years-old again, worrying about wetting the bed because of the monster in his closet, under his bed, in his bedroom. Briefly, he wondered if Judith would grow up the same way, or would she be used to monsters in this world? Rick blinked the thought away as he gave in and climbed into bed. Maybe if he hurried up and went to sleep, he wouldn’t ever know Negan would climb into his bed beside him.

Turning his back to the door, Rick shifted fitfully. Tired as he was, sleep wouldn’t come. Maybe it was habit from keeping an ear out for threats and for Judith, but Rick kept hearing things. After what felt like forever, Rick heard the bedroom door open. Negan was here.

Rick stiffened like a board at the sound, holding his breath, half-way believing that if he held still or played dead that nothing bad would happen to him. Behind him he could hear Negan walk across the floor, his boots heavy. Negan sighed tiredly, and Rick heard the rustle of clothes as he stripped down. There was a clink of a belt buckle on the floor, and Rick bit into his lip, fearing the worst. The blankets ruffled softly as Negan picked them up – and Rick didn’t move an inch, every muscle tight – and then Negan gently slipped into bed, leaving a small space between them.

The mattress underneath him rolled and bounced from Negan’s jostling as he settled down, but Rick was surprised that he remained untouched. He knew Negan was close in the bed, he could feel the body heat radiating off of him, but Rick hadn’t believed the man earlier about the no rape rule. At the very least, he expected uncomfortable grinding, for Negan to rut against his back and slip his hand down his pants, but there was none of that. Instead, Negan quickly fell to sleep, snoring softly, and Rick was left staring at the wall, wondering if this was a test. Before he knew it, though, Rick was lulled to sleep by Negan’s breathing, and when he woke in the morning, Negan was already gone, without a trace.

The next couple of nights went like that. There was a run to Alexandria, but Rick wasn’t allowed to go. Not yet at least, because Simon said that one day Rick would be able to go. Until then, Rick spent his days wandering the Sanctuary, at a loss for what to do. He had come here expecting torture or death, to be remade back into the monster he tried to stop himself from becoming. And instead, all he was now was a bed warmer? It didn’t make sense. This couldn’t be real.

In his wandering, Rick found the man with the baseball bat again. “You,” Rick called, still unsure of what the man’s name was.

The man turned on his heel at the sound of Rick’s voice, and he smiled widely. “Hello, Blue Eyes. You fucking sleep well?”

“Nothing happened. Nothing has happened yet,” Rick said, hating himself for sounding like a petulant child for it, but he wanted answers, he wanted rationality and for reality to just be real instead of whatever twisted fairy tale this was.

The smile on the man’s face twitched. “I fucking told you, Blue Eyes, we don’t rape here.”

“But we didn’t even…We don’t even…” Rick trailed off.

“What, fucking cuddle?” The man joked, but at the look on Rick’s face, the man began to tease, “Oh, shit, Blue Eyes. You do want cuddles and fucking snuggles? Hugs and kisses and fucking touches?”

In spite of himself, Rick shivered. He didn’t necessarily want any of that. But it had been so long since he’s had that. There hadn’t been anyone after Jessie, and even then, looking back, Rick realized that what he had with Jessie was a mistake. Rick missed intimacy, but it seemed like a small sacrifice to make in exchange for surviving.

The man tilted his head at Rick, smirked and shook his head. “Blue Eyes, you are something else.”

Underneath the man’s warm hazel gaze, Rick blushed and hurried away, embarrassed at his behavior.

That night, Rick was already in bed, his hair still slightly damp from his shower. He assumed his normal position, facing away from the door, clinging to his pillow. Negan came in and made his usual night time noises as he undressed for bed. And Rick wondered, not for the first time, what Negan looked like. He was too afraid to turn and look, and if he did, it would be too dark to tell without touching the man. It was strange how Rick felt like he slept easier not knowing who was in his bed.

There was a creaky noise from the mattress springs as Negan crawled into bed. Unlike the first night, Rick wasn’t as tense, but like the first night, he said nothing and didn’t move. Negan shuffled around behind him, and Rick didn’t think anything of it, just waiting for Negan’s snore so he could go to sleep. But then there was the softest of touches on his shoulder blade, and every instinct in Rick screamed to turn around and snap the fingers. All Rick could imagine were walker fingers digging rotten nails into his flesh, tearing his skin and eating him. Or worse, fingers from the dead who wore familiar faces, like Shane…

Then the fingers stroked him again, the touch feather light, and all anxieties in Rick melted away. There was a firmer touch of a long-fingers hand pressed against his back, slowly slipping over his side. Negan kept his hand away from Rick’s more intimate areas, resting it on top of his cotton shirt instead of slipping it underneath. Rick was grateful for that at least. But then Negan curled his hand over Rick’s stomach, and Rick’s eyes fell shut on their own. He reached his hand up to Negan’s, and laced their fingers together.

A pause, and then Negan squeezed his hand. Ever so slowly, Negan dragged himself over to Rick; and Rick went from feeling only a warm ghost of Negan to the length of Negan’s body pressed against his back. Negan must be a tall, thin man since he bowed his body around Rick, curling up against him. He kept his head away on his own pillow, and Rick was enveloped in warmth. There was no erection digging into his back or cold feet pressed against his own. It was comfortable, and Rick found himself falling asleep before he even heard Negan’s breathing even out.

For the next week, Rick slept easily with Negan spooned against his back. Sometimes he was consumed with wanting to know who Negan was, but the obsession would leave him as soon as Negan would wrap his arm around him at night. The man never pushed any further, and Rick was fine with that. He had been sleeping better than ever since he started sharing a bed with Negan, and Rick knew that it was solely from Negan’s touch. The mattress itself was pretty shitty, and Rick was still worried about his family and the fate of Alexandria. But when Negan’s warm surrounded him with such a tender embrace, Rick would just stop thinking and let go. Sometimes when Negan would nuzzle his nose into the nape of his neck, sleepily snuffling and blowing Rick’s curls out of the way, it took everything in Rick not to moan at happiness at the touch. There was nothing sexual there, yet, but Rick’s body was singing under the attention. And Rick was ashamed at how selfish he was being.

One day, Rick sought out the man with the baseball bat again, needing a distraction from his guilt. He had quickly given up looking for the real Negan because no one would give him a straight answer, they’d just laugh at him. The one thing Rick hadn’t given up on was that one day he’d be able to return to Alexandria. Simon had told him that they were doing well, following instructions. No one had been punished, no one had been killed. Maggie was okay, too, and staying at the Hilltop. Rick had to marvel at his luck, but he knew that none of this came cheaply. Alexandria was providing supplies for the Saviors now, much in a similar fashion as the Hilltop.

Rick also knew that the only reason Alexandria might have been cut any slack was because Rick was sleeping with the enemy. He burned with shame that what he was doing was humiliating as much as it was gratifying – to be treated like a wild animal tamed into a docile lapdog. But at least none of his family knew. Rick could live without them knowing, it made it easier for him, not that it was hard at all anyway. And Rick was surprised that being a pet for Negan was something that he actually enjoyed on the days where he wasn’t ambivalent about the situation.

He found the man with the bat in the cafeteria with Simon. Once Rick slid into a seat, Simon nodded at him and got up. “I have some meetings to be getting to,” he excused himself and Rick and the man watched him go. Sometimes, Rick suspected that Simon really was Negan since he was so busy around the Sanctuary, but after Negan touched him, Rick was sure that wasn’t the case. Simon was too big to be Negan, so Rick just assumed he was the second-hand man instead. He was right.

Turning to the man, Rick greeted him softly. “Hey.”

Smiling around his spoon, the man pulled it from his lips slowly and dropped it to his tray. “Hello yourself there, Blue Eyes. You enjoying being a fucking teddy bear?”

Unbothered (by now Rick had even come to enjoy this man’s crass and invading nature for being so funny and personable whereas Negan was emotional distant and cold), Rick shrugged. “It’s not so bad. There are worse things.”

“Hm, you’re a fucking hard man to please.” The man twisted his head at Rick and then turned back to his tray. “Want a bite of my fucking gelato, Blue Eyes?”

Peeking over the man’s shoulder at the tray, Rick wrinkled his nose suspiciously. “What flavor is it?”

“I believe Simon fucking called it cardamom. It’s not half as bad as it looks.” The man offered a spoonful to Rick, holding it close to his mouth.

Instead of just allowing the man to feed him, Rick took the spoon and fed himself. When the cold treat touched his tongue, he moaned at the flavor. When was the last time he had something like ice cream? “That’s good,” Rick gasped appreciatively and passed the man his spoon back.

The man accepted the spoon, giving Rick a funny look. “Well, you’re easier to fucking please than I thought, Blue Eyes.”

They took turns sharing the man’s gelato between them. Once it was gone, Rick broke their companionable silence. “There must be something I can do around here.”

“You don’t have to fucking work,” the man dismissed him, standing up and grabbing his tray and the baseball bat he carried everywhere.

“But I want to. There’s nothing for me to do during the day.” Rick doggedly followed the man as he went to drop off his tray. “Please give me an assignment. I’ll work. Anything to keep myself occupied.”

“I’m not sure we have any positions you can fucking fit into, Blue Eyes. We’re not gonna risk assigning you to something fucking important, and you’re definitely not leaving the Sanctuary on runs. You chose to be a husband, not a Savior. You lost your fucking privilege to leave when you made that fucking choice.”

“Fine, I don’t have to do guard duty. Put me in somewhere else.” The man walked outside, and Rick shadowed him, not willing to give up. Sudden inspiration hit him as he passed the workers in the makeshift greenhouse. “Put me in the garden. I’m good at growing things.”

That made the man stop in his tracks, and Rick nearly collided into his back, just barely managing to catch himself at the last minute. Spinning around to face Rick, the man looked him up and down, absentmindedly twirling the bat like a baton. “You want to sit on your ass and dig in the damn dirt, Blue Eyes?”

“Look, I get it, you can’t risk me ruining your food supplies, but you can have me watched, that’s fine. I just need something to do.”

The man hummed thoughtfully, searching Rick’s face with his dark hazel eyes. “Alright, Blue Eyes, you got your wish.” The man shook his head and smiled. “You’ve got me wrapped around your finger, you know that?”

Rick didn’t understand what the man meant, but he didn’t want to push his luck. All he did was thank the man and head off the green houses to be assigned to work. The hazel eyes of the man followed him as he left.

Soon Rick settled into an easy routine. By day he was nothing more than a gardener, and the man would come visit him sometimes, though he never sunk to his knees to help. They’d talk a bit, but then the man had to leave to attend to his Savior duties. Rick didn’t mind not making many friends here. His first and only loyalty was to Alexandria, and the less attachments he made here the better.

By night, though, when Rick would climb into his bed utterly exhausted and back aching from being half bent over, he’d welcome Negan’s touch. Negan was like a heating pad for his aches and pains, and on nights were Rick was particularly exhausted, he’d guide Negan’s hand to where it hurt. Negan’s hands would knead his tender flesh, massage his shoulders, rub his stomach, and Rick would always fall asleep faster that way. When he’d wake up, Negan was always gone and Rick always felt better.

But as the last dog days of summer fading into a cool autumn, Rick’s worries resurfaced. Despite all of Simon’s assurances that Alexandria was okay, Rick wanted to see so for himself. He wanted to see Judith, see how much she’s grown. He needed to check on Carl, to reassure his family that he was fine. The not-knowing was what was killing Rick now.

So, while he was in the garden, he waited for the man to show. It seemed that whenever Rick talked to the man, things would change, as if he took Rick’s suggestions and opinions under advisement and reported it to Negan. Rick was hoping that if he could convince the man to take him on the visit to Alexandria, Negan and Simon would let him go.

Right on time, the man showed up, whistling a jaunty tune and swinging the bat in the air playfully. Rick noticed that most of the other workers – who were already withdrawn, he assumed because of his position as both a stranger and Negan’s husband – always flinched away from the man and the bat when they approached. Rick just chalked it up to normal behavior, because they acted the same way around other saviors, too. Today was no different, as the workers quickly moved to the other side of the green house, giving Rick and the man some privacy to talk.

“Hello there, Blue Eyes.”

Looking up at the man, Rick thought – not for the time – how handsome he was. Part of Rick wished that this man was Negan instead. He would make a good husband, a husband who talks and listens as much as a husband who rubs his back and nuzzles into his hair. Blinking the thought away, Rick responded simply, “Hi,” and then ducked his head back down to fiddle with some of the last greens of the season. Rick hoped that his blush could just be passed off on working hard in the sun rather than what it actually was.

“Working hard or hardly fucking working?”

“Working hard,” Rick answered demurely. He dared to glance up at the man again. “Why don’t you squat down and I can show you something?”

The man snorted and looked away from Rick. “I’m not gonna grow a fucking garden.”

“Come on,” Rick cajoled, “I want to show you something.”

With a dramatic sigh, the man leaned down, using the bat to keep himself balanced. “Alright, Blue Eyes, what do you want to show me.”

Remembering what Hershel taught him so long ago back at the prison, Rick took one of the man’s gloved hands and brought it to one of the struggling plants. “See here, this part is dead.”

“The plant is fucking dying?”

“It happens sometimes, even in a good batch,” Rick explained. “But if we do this,” Rick snapped off the dead part of the plant.

Immediately the man protested, “Hey, you’re fucking breaking it. How is it supposed to get better from that?”

Rick was quick to reassure him, “Broken things can grow again.” The man quieted, a thoughtful look passing over his face, and Rick took that as a sign to continue. “All it needs is a little help.” The man still looked perplexed, his handsome brow furrowed together over his hazel eyes as he contemplated the plant, and Rick continued further, “Think of the plant as the world is today. The dead walk everywhere. We can either let it consume us until we are all the walking dead, or we can break away and grow from it. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I think so.” The man shifted restlessly. He looked back up to Rick again, hazel eyes connecting with the blue, and he suddenly asked, “Did I ever introduce you to my Lucille?”

“No,” Rick answered honestly, “is she around here somewhere?”

The man looked down at his back, tapping the head of her in the dirt. “Maybe. Sometimes. I dunno.” Looking back up at Rick, the man explained, “Lucille was my wife. She died just before this shit show started. Cancer.”

Rick didn’t know what to say. He could tell the man about his own shit show, how he woke up from his coma completely abandoned, how his wife got pregnant with his best friend’s baby because they thought he was dead. How he killed his best friend, how his son had to kill his mother, how Lori died believing Rick hated her when that wasn’t true. But it seemed selfish to tell him that, so Rick didn’t. He decided to listen instead.

“We thought we caught it damn early enough. Lucille went through the chemotherapy bullshit song and dance, and she was so…just fucking strong about it. Even when her hair started falling out, she just shaved the rest of that shit off and covered her head in this scarf to keep her head from getting fucking sunburned.”

The man’s fingers wrapped around the red scarf he sometimes had tucked around his neck. As the days got colder, Rick was starting to see it more often. He thought it suited the man. Red was his color like blue was Rick’s. Brought out his eyes, or at least, that’s what Lori always told him.

“You see, Rick,” and Rick startled because that was the first time that the man had called him by his name rather than Blue Eyes. “You see, for all of my wife’s fighting – no matter how hard Lucille fucking tried and she tried fucking hard – cancer broke her. And she fucking died for no reason at all. She didn’t deserve to die at all. Never done a damn thing wrong in her entire goddamn life. Lucille was a fucking saint, and she died when it should have been me.”

Leaning close to Rick, the man said, “So not all broken things can grow again.”

Not intimidated, Rick murmured with his blue eyes wide, “I don’t believe that.”

The man laughed and his face before he stood back up again. The bat returned to rest on his shoulder, and he ran a hand over his beard. “Fuck, Blue Eyes,” he laughed again, and then left the greenhouse.

And it’s not until he was far enough away that Rick couldn’t hear him laughing anymore when Rick remembered that he hadn’t asked if he could visit Alexandria tomorrow.

That night, Rick intended to ask Negan instead. He hadn’t actually tried talking directly to the man – but to Rick’s defense, neither had Negan. When Negan flopped into bed that night, Rick rolled over to face him. As soon as he put his hand on Negan, he felt the man go still at his touch. Rick strained his eyes to see Negan in the dark, but as the night was cloudy, Rick couldn’t make out much. “Negan,” Rick began, his voice low, “Negan, I want to go to Alexandria tomorrow.” Quickly, he rushed to explain before Negan could so no or Rick could lose his courage.

“I have a daughter Negan. She’s…well it’s hard to keep track of her age, but she’s just a baby. Still in diapers, can barely speak. I miss her. I need to see my family, I need to know they’re alright. My daughter Judith, my son Carl, their mother is dead and gone. Just a visit and then I’ll come back to you.”

A contemplative silence stretched between them, and Rick wondered if Negan fell asleep. Wiggling closer, he moved his hand up Negan’s chest to cup his face. The man’s beard was rough against his palm. It almost made Rick think that he was in bed with himself, that Negan could just be his worse half, the monster he had suppressed manifested into something else. But that was just a silly fantasy. “Negan?”

Negan shifted underneath Rick’s hand until he could kiss Rick’s palm. “Okay,” he agreed, voice soft, nearly a whisper. He sounded exhausted.

“Thank you,” Rick said earnestly, and he bit his lip, unsure of what to do. The kiss made it seem to Rick as if he owed Negan something for this favor. But what could Rick do to show his appreciation. Slipping closer to Negan, Rick intended to kiss him, but missed, his kiss ending up on Negan’s neck instead. The stubble was ticklish around the sensitive skin of Rick’s mouth, and he heard Negan groan softly before his arms came up around Rick and held his head to his chest. Negan kissed the top of Rick’s head, Rick’s forehead, the bridge of his nose, and then – their mouth found each other in the darkness.

Rick’s eyes fluttered close, and he thought that if all monsters kissed as softly as this, then their honey lips are laced with poison. But Rick couldn’t taste any almonds from Negan’s mouth, instead he just tasted the man himself and a hint of mint from where he might’ve brushed his teeth before he came to Rick’s bed. Not a monster at all, but a man.

And that night, Rick made love to a man, and if he thought about the man he’d become friends with over the weeks that he’s been here, he didn’t let that stop him at all.

And the next morning, Rick woke up to an empty bed.

Rick scrambled to through his clothes on, that way he wouldn’t be late for the run to Alexandria. When he made it outside, the trucks were still sitting their idly. “There you are, Sleeping Beauty,” the man with the baseball bat teased. “We’ve been waiting on ya.”

“I’m sorry,” Rick said, and climbed in the truck that the man was driving. Before he was even buckled up, they were already out of the gates, and Rick realized that he was going home. He smiled.

Beside him, the man hummed and tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, clearly in a good mood. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Rick and smiled right back at him. “Blue Eyes, you’ve got the prettiest fucking smile.”

Flushing, Rick looked out the window, catching sight of the other trucks in the convoy behind theirs. “I’m just happy to be going home is all. I want to see my family.”

“Is that all you’re fucking happy about, Blue Eyes?” The man teased him.

“Well, what else should I be happy about?” Rick asked in return, looking back at the man. He felt a little awkward for not knowing his name, but at this point, he was too embarrassed to ask. Besides, when he asked him the first day, he just gave him that horseshit Negan answer.

“I dunno, Blue Eyes, how about whatever had you waking up late looking so damn rumpled.” The man looked over at him again and winked. “You’re walking a little bow-legged, too.”

Huffing indignantly, Rick protested, “I wasn’t.”

“Oh, yes, you fucking were, Blue Eyes,” the man laughed, “a little more so than usual, too.”

“I do not walk bow-legged,” Rick insisted sharply and turned back to the window again. After a moment of silence, Rick hesitantly asked, “Is it really that noticeable?”

The man barked a laugh, long and loud. “Don’t worry, Blue Eyes, your secret is safe with me.”

At Alexandria, as soon as Rick hopped out of the truck, Carl pushed his way through the crowd. His son who before he left had been going through the beginnings of being a sulky teenager now reverted back into the little boy he remembered from just before his coma. “Dad!” Carl called and crashed into Rick.

“Carl,” Rick sighed and sunk to his knees, hugging him tight. He slipped his hand under the sheriff’s hat, smoothing his hand over Carl’s long hair. Carl pressed his face into Rick’s shoulder, and Rick could feel the tears, but didn’t comment on them, not wanting to embarrass his son. To Rick’s relief, the Saviors let them have their moment, and when Carl pulled himself together, they let go of each other and went home to see Judith.

Michonne and Daryl were on the porch, and when they saw Rick, they ran to him, too. Daryl actually hopped over the railing and crashed into Rick the same way Carl did. Michonne was a little less frenzied, mostly because she had Judith on her hip.

Judith reached out her chubby baby hands, all blonde curls and sweet smiles, to Rick and that’s when Rick broke down crying. He remembered feeling this way after Terminus, when he thought Judith died at the prison, but here Judith was and she’s grown so big. Rick pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, and cradled her close, mumbling nonsense to her. Together, they went inside, and Rick collapsed on the couch with Judith in his lap, holding her until she felt asleep.

“We’ve been worried about you, Rick,” Michonne began softly, “what have they done to?”

“Nothing,” Rick answered honestly, his eyes glued to Judith. “Absolutely nothing. All I have to do is work in the garden – and that’s by my choice. I’m a prisoner, but I’m treated well. It’s not so bad.”

At that, Michonne, Daryl, and Carl all exchanged glances with each other. “Negan told us that you were his now. That you were…married to him.”

Well, Rick hadn’t expected them to know that. “I am,” he admitted, voice soft and not only for Judith’s sake. “I don’t, we don’t, do nothing. We just sleep together.” At their look, Rick rushed to clarify, “Only sleep. Most of the time, I’m asleep before Negan ever comes to bed.”

“So, you have a chance to kill him,” Daryl muttered softly.

“Kill him?”

“Rick,” Michonne said, “we’ve ran into three other groups who have had dealings with the Saviors. They’re not as good as they seem. And it’s getting harder to find supplies for them on runs. These people, they’re animals. One group we found – Oceanside – had every man over the age of 12 killed because they tried to reassert their independence. Another group – the Kingdom – had a boy only a little older than Carl shot because they turned up one melon short.”

“They didn’t even shoot him in the head,” Carl said, voice hard and laced with bitterness, “He bled out while they tried to get him to a doctor. He’s buried at Carol’s new house.”

“Carol?”

“She and Morgan are at the Kingdom. Tara and Rosita are at Oceanside. Maggie and Glenn are at the Hilltop. Father Gabriel is with the Scavengers.”

“Why are we all split up?”

“Without you Rick, things fell apart, and some of us couldn’t handle being here, watching the Savior take from us every day,” Michonne gently explained. Rick could believe it, especially about Rosita. It was probably good for her to get away, since Abraham was with Sasha now. Father Gabriel was a surprise, but Rick wanted to believe that he was doing the right thing.

“They took our mattresses, Dad, and burned them just outside the gates. We had to clear out walkers for a week afterwards, since they were attracted by the smoke.”

“Did, did anyone get hurt?”

“No,” Carl said, “but there’s always next time.”

“Rick, we’re going to war.” Michonne said, calling his attention back to her, “We need a man on the inside to kill Negan. The real Negan. And that will just make everything easier.”

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Rick croaked, “When, when were you going to do this?”

“We can be ready by tonight. We’ll send out messengers after you leave. Tonight, you can kill him, and by tomorrow, they’ll all be dead and we will have won. We’re the ones who get to live, who get to win.”

Rick could see who took his place as leader while he was gone. He admired them for doing this, but it felt wrong. Clearly, though, there was so much more that he didn’t know. While he was at the Sanctuary, he was being sheltered. But things haven’t changed – not even after last night. Rick’s first loyalty was to his family.

He rode back to the Sanctuary with the man in contemplative silence. The man let him have it, sensing that he needed to be left alone with his thoughts. Rick had a hard decision to make. But, he would do it. He would kill Negan to free himself and his family, and maybe, he could save the man, too, while he was at it. Rick thought he was a good man who deserved a second chance.

That night, Rick had managed to get a flashlight and shove it under the mattress. It was too risky for him to find a weapon, but there were other ways to kill Negan. Suffocation mainly. The flashlight was just in case the man brought any weapons in the room with him that Rick could use instead. A knife or gun would be much quicker, more humane, and quiet. But Rick was prepared to do the worse because he has done much worse before.

When Negan came to him, Rick soon realized his problem. He’d have to climb over Negan to get to the flashlight and the weapons. But Rick’s problem was solved when Negan pressed kisses into Rick’s neck, turning him over so he could kiss his lips instead. Rick welcomed the kiss before he even realized he was doing it.

Ever so softly, Negan asked him, “Did you enjoy seeing your family?”

“Yes, Negan, I did. Thank you.”

And again, Rick showed Negan his appreciation for the favor. This time was different, though. Last night was sweet with the gentleness and reverence of exploring a new partner for the first time. Now it was no less gentle, but Rick felt it was bittersweet. Rather than allowing Negan to pin him to the mattress, Rick climbed on top and shifted back until he was riding Negan instead. Rick had thought that he’d just do it hard and fast, wear Negan out so he’d be so exhausted and fall asleep quickly afterwards, but instead Rick found himself going slow, savoring the push and pull, the slight burn and pleasant sting of being stretch, the roll of his hips, how soft Negan was under his hands, how warm he was, how sweet. Negan sat up and pressed his lips against Rick’s with such urgency, and even as they both neared their end, they kept it slow and steady, like the drip of honey, cloying on the tongue.

“Oh, Rick,” Negan sighed in his ear, breath damp and warm against the shell of Rick’s ear. On top of Negan, Rick shivered and keened. “Rick, Rick, you’re so good for me. Fuck, Rick. You’re so special to me, so sweet.”

The more Negan muttered and panted, the more Rick soared high on his pleasure. Tears formed in his eyes, leaked down his cheeks, dripped into the corners of his mouth. He swiped his tongue across his bottom lip and tasted their saltiness. There was something familiar in Negan’s voice, in the way he shaped Rick’s name, called him special. The praises were stroking Rick’s ego as well as Negan’s cock stroked against his prostate, and before Rick knew it, he was coming and Negan quickly followed him after.

They collapsed to the bed, and Rick had the foresight to fall on the side that was at the edge of the bed, that way he could reach the flashlight. The room was dark and smelled of sex. Both Rick and Negan were damp with sweat and intermingled sticky fluids. Negan dragged Rick up against his chest until Rick was half sprawled on top of Negan. Negan’s fingers tipped Rick’s chin up until Negan could press a gentle kiss to his lips languidly. Rick’s tears were tenderly wiped away, too. “Oh, Rick, you’ve make me as fucking soft as you make me hard.” And Negan chuckled softly before his head flopped back against the pillow. His heavy breathing died down to gentle snores, but Rick stayed awake.

Tonight, was the most Negan had ever spoken to him, and now that he had, Rick wished that he didn’t. It made what Rick had to do next harder than it had to be. For a long time, Rick just enjoyed the steady thump-thump of Negan’s heart underneath his ear – while Negan still had a heartbeat. But Rick knew that he couldn’t wait forever.

Once he was sure that Negan was in a dead (almost) sleep, Rick slipped out of his arms with some difficult. Negan’s arms were heavy around him, like a petulant child who refused to let go of their teddy bear. It reminded Rick of how Carl was about his blankie – Silkie, he called it – when he was little. It reminded Rick of how Judith was now about her pacifier. Thinking of his children, did not give Rick the courage he needed, surprisingly. It made his heart ache instead.

When he was finally out of Negan’s arms, Rick grabbed his flashlight and shined it on Negan’s close. There, gleaming on the floor was a knife sheathed in Negan’s belt. Perfect. Rick leaned over and grabbed it, and tried not to think about Negan’s come dried uncomfortable between his thighs as he turned back to Negan. He was careful to keep the light out of Negan’s eyes, not wanting to wake him up, but once he had the light illuminating the lower half of Negan’s face, Rick finally recognized the man – because it was the man.

The realization – all the signs that he had been missing – slammed into Rick so hard that he fell off the bed in shock. As he fell to the floor, he knocked over the baseball bat that was propped against the bed. The barbed wire scratched him and Rick hissed in pain, clutching at his wound. It was sticky from blood already.

Of course, the noise was enough to jerk the man – Negan – out of his slumber, and he quickly sat up, patting around, looking for Rick. “Rick, baby. What’s wrong? You have a fucking nightmare?” Negan picked up the flashlight that Rick had dropped and shined it over the side of the bed at Rick. Rick was naked on the floor, half tangled up in blankets, bleeding on his arm, a knife in his hand. Negan put the pieces together quickly. 

“You were gonna fucking kill me.” He sounded heartbroken. “Fuck you, Rick! You’re a goddamned animal!” That was a lot angrier. “You’re going to wish that Lucille finished what she started with you by the time I’m finished with you, Rick!” Negan pounced on Rick from the bed, knocking the knife out of his hands as he wrapped one arm around Rick’s throat and the other blindly grasped for Lucille.

There was a mad scramble in the dark for the first one who could reach a weapon, but in the meantime, Negan and Rick threw blind punches in the dark. Rick didn’t speak much, didn’t make excuses, conserving his strength. But Negan frothed and famed at the mouth in his anger. “Rick, how could you fucking do this to me? I give you fucking everything – I gave you goddamn space and then when you wanted more I gave in – and I gave in again. I feed you fucking ice cream, I let you have your fucking garden time, I let you go home to your fucking family that hate my goddamn guts, I fucking tell you about Lucille, I fucking love you – and you do this to me? What the fuck is wrong with you? You fucked me right before you were gonna fucking stab me? You want to fucking Julius Cesar this shit with me, Rick? Fucking try me!”

While they were fighting, Rick was distantly aware of the commotion outside. Michonne had already led their army on the attack. Rick had to do something about this now, but… He didn’t want to kill Negan. For some reason, he couldn’t. Before he had been willing to give the man that was his friend a second chance. That doesn’t change now just because it’s Negan.

Rick was so distracted that Negan broke his leg, and Rick’s repressed monster reared its ugly head. He remembered those Claimers who threatened Carl – and how Rick ripped a man’s throat out with his teeth like he was animal, like he was one of the dead. Something snapped in Rick now from the force of Negan’s punch. Rick scrambled across the floor on all fours despite his broken leg, crawling away from Negan. His hands found the knife, and as Negan grabbed the ankle on his bad leg and dragged him back, Rick turned on his back. He jerked forward and swiped the knife through the air. Negan’s cursing cut off into a gargle, and Rick knew that he hit his mark.

But as soon as he felt the warm spray of blood across his face, Rick knew he went too far. “Negan,” Rick cried out, much like he had earlier when he came. Negan didn’t answer, grasping at his throat to close the wound, falling on his side. Rick grabbed the blankets or the clothes – whatever he could find – and gently pressed it to Negan’s neck. “Negan, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to.”

But luckily for the both of them, Negan didn’t die. Somehow during the commotion, someone found them and brought up Dr. Carson. “Save him,” Rick begged, throat hoarse from crying, “save him. Does he need blood? I’m type B.”

“Your leg,” the doctor began, but Rick was having none of it.

“Damn my leg, save Negan!”

So, the doctor did as Rick asked, and once it was all said and done, they had won the war. The war itself came with minimal causalities on both sides. Rick came out of it with a broken leg, and in a weird twist of fate, Negan was his prisoner now. Not many were happy about that – not even Negan, who didn’t forgive Rick at first – but over time, Negan was released, considered rehabilitated. But Negan didn’t leave. He stayed with Rick and forgave him.

And both men grew from the broken things they were before, the monsters within them tamed and pushed back until the monsters were needed again.


End file.
